


Baby Blanket

by TreacleTart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Family, Mother's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6620164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleTart/pseuds/TreacleTart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young man speaks, but his words confuse me.  He tells me that it’s mother day, something that I had failed to remember. I mean why would I really? My mother is long dead and my husband and I have never been lucky enough to have a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blanket

Beautiful Banner by Livilulu @ TDA!

I sit in a room by a window, watching the passersby in the street below. A cool breeze caresses my cheek and ruffles my bangs like an old friend. The sun is high in the sky, causing me think it’s just a bit past noon. A few lazy clouds drift along in the distance, as if they’re in no hurry to get anywhere. I smile. I love days like this.

Across from me sits my husband. I watch him breathe, thinking to myself how lucky I am to have him after all of these years. He doesn’t seem to notice me, but that’s okay.  
Perhaps, he’s lost in another day dream. He does tend to be prone to them. 

Movement at the doorway brings me out of my reverie. I see a young man that I recognize only slightly. He actually vaguely resembles my husband in the way that a long lost cousin might. They have similarities in the way their ears wiggle when they smile and the peak at the crown of their hairline. 

Next to the young man stands a young woman. She’s a lovely thing with long, flowing blonde hair and the brightest of smiles. In her arms, she holds a little bundle wrapped in a light blue blanket. I pause staring at it, wondering what it could be.

Suddenly, the bundle moves and makes the impatient sounds of a small baby. I crane my head trying to sneak a peek inside of the blankets, but my vision is obscured by the young lady’s arm. She sees me staring at the child and smiles. Embarrassment rises within me. Here I am staring at this strange person. I turn away, but I keep watch out of the corner of my eye. 

The young man speaks, but his words confuse me. He tells me that it’s mother day, something that I had failed to remember. I mean why would I really? My mother is long dead and my husband and I have never been lucky enough to have a child. For the life of me, I can’t seem to understand why this strange young man is going on about it. Maybe he wants me to help him pick out a present for his mother?

Something nags at the pit of my stomach, deep inside of me. I eye him suspiciously concerned that this might be some type of ruse. I’ve heard about young strangers trying to scam old ladies like myself out of their money. I suppose that since we live in such a magnificent palace with servants to care for our needs, my husband and I must be prime targets for such a scam.

Sensing my confusion, the young lady speaks. “Alice, we’ve had a baby girl and we thought you might like to meet her.” She takes a step towards me, holding the child out for me to see. The thoughts of scams melt away as I look at the infant in front of me.

Tentatively, I reach out a hand and move the blanket to the side. The baby is darling. She has tiny little eyes decorated by the smallest little eyelashes I’ve ever seen. A little button nose adorns the center or her face and pale pink lips press firmly together to make a miniature mouth. I can just see the lightest bit of peach fuzz growing on top of her head. It looks as if she’ll be blonde just like her mother. 

I move the blanket a little further and find her little baby hands. Gingerly, I squeeze one of them between two of my fingers. She wraps her hand around my finger tip and returns the squeeze with all her force. For some odd reason, a tear wells up in my eye. I suppose maybe its regret at not having had children or maybe it’s simply the joy at the start of a new, innocent life. Either way, it’s moving.

The blonde woman holds the baby girl out to me. “Alice, would you like to hold her for a moment? Maybe you could sit down on the bed and then I’ll put her in your arms.”  
I walk to the bed and sit as she’s asked me to. She holds the baby out to me and I take the little bundle very carefully into my arms. Happiness fills my soul. I rock the baby slowly, humming a few words to her. She nestles down comfortably into the crook of my arm and sighs contentedly.

The young man speaks, shaking me from my daydream. “Mum, we’ve named the baby Alice after you. Isn’t that lovely?”

Again, I feel a disconnect. My name is indeed Alice and it’s lovely that they’ve given this child that name as well, but it would feel so much better if I could grasp why this young man keeps calling me mum or really why they’re visiting me in general. I feel certain that I would know if I had a son. It’s a life changing experience having a child, one not easily erased. This young man and his wife are no more familiar to me than a long lost relative that I met once long ago at a family reunion.

I lean back against the wall, lifting my legs up onto the bed. Baby Alice and I stay this way for a long time, resting peacefully. Occasionally, she stirs or makes a little baby sound, but otherwise, she sleeps soundly. 

A shrill cry rips me from my slumber. I realize quickly that I must’ve fallen asleep with little Alice in my arms. I look around the room and find the unfamiliar young man and young lady looking at me, smiles plastered across their face. It almost looks for a moment like the young man might cry.

“Did you have a nice nap, mum?” he asks as he gently lifts the child from my arms. 

The lovely young woman takes the baby from him. “Poor thing is probably in need of a change. It seems she needs a new diaper almost every three hours like clockwork.”  
The young woman changes the child and then rewraps her in her lovely blue knit blanket. Such a precious little thing she is. I watch as the young woman walks over to the chair where my husband Frank sits staring off into space. These days that’s all he ever really does.

“Frank, Neville and I have had a baby girl. We thought that you might like to meet your granddaughter. We’ve named her Alice.” The young woman holds the baby out to him, but Frank doesn’t move, at least not until the baby starts to cry.

At the sound of the shrill screams, Frank looks up, shock registering on his face. He extends his arms, gently taking the baby into them. He rocks her gently, making a rough shushing sound to calm her. The baby snuggles down against his chest and for the first time in years, I see Frank smile. He hums a little song as he sways back and forth in his seat. I think to myself that it’s such a shame that I never gave him children. Frank would’ve made an excellent father.

Around late afternoon, the baby starts to cry once more and the young woman tells us it’s time for them to leave. The baby needs to be fed and it’s a long journey to their home. They bid Frank and I a lovely farewell.

Just as they are about to leave, something in me clicks and I remember the small baby blanket that I had knitted once long ago for a friend. For some reason, I had never ended up giving it to her and it still sits in one of my dresser drawers. I rush towards the young man, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. He pauses, looking at me intently. 

Rapidly, I dig through my drawers until finally I find it. It’s a small blanket made of yellow yarn. The colors are slightly faded from age, but it’s still in perfect shape. The name Neville is stitched in blue along the top. I did always like that name. It’s a shame I never gave it to my friend. 

I hand the baby blanket to the young man and he opens it cautiously. He studies it as if he can’t believe his eyes. Suddenly, tears are trickling down his cheeks and he lunges forward, encapsulating me in a hug. I hear him sobbing against my shoulder. 

Bewildered, I look to the young woman and she too is sobbing. “Thank you, Alice,” she mouths at me. 

I focus hard on why the name Neville means so much to the two of them and in seconds memories of a toddler crawling around our house, while Frank and I laughed come flooding back. Suddenly, I remember. I wrap my arms around this man in front of me, my son, and for the first time in a long time, I hold him tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> This story was originally posted on HPFF for the Parent’s Day Challenge. The character I was assigned was Alice Longbottom. With all of the tragedy around Neville and his family I wanted to give them at least a brief happy moment. Consider it completely self-indulgent.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story and would love to hear any comments you might have on it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> ~Kaitlin/TreacleTart


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